


Tell Him

by ineffable_grimm_pitch



Series: Carry On individual works [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Fluff, Frozen Water Balloons, Gay Panic, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, No Beta We Die Like Simon's Will To Live, Not Beta Read, POV Agatha Wellbelove, POV Penelope Bunce, POV Simon Snow, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Sexually Ambiguous Simon Snow, Simon Snow Is Dumb, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, Watford (Simon Snow), Well Actually It's Summer, actually not really, but you get the point, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:43:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22269877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffable_grimm_pitch/pseuds/ineffable_grimm_pitch
Summary: I can honestly say that I have imagined getting Simon Snow into my bed on countless occasions, in countless ways. I have had dreams, daydreams, fantasies about getting Simon Snow into my bed, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.That’s a lie. I’m very ashamed to admit it.All the same, I have spent a lot of time imagining how I would get Simon Snow into my bed.I can safely say that this was not one of the scenarios I ever imagined.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On individual works [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615813
Comments: 22
Kudos: 269





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This...was supposed to be a lot shorter than it is. But when you encounter holes in your story, they need filling, so here you go.
> 
> Shoutout to my friend Molly, who y'all may remember from the chapter Dean And His Gun in my story Growing To Love Her, for giving me the idea for the frozen water balloons! We all need friends with chaotic energy.
> 
> Also please note: I am a baby writer! And I am American! So I know these chaotic boys (and Penny) are supposed to be British, and I sure am trying, but I know that my writing tends to read American rather than British! Please be patient with me! I don't have any beta readers, and I sure as hecc don't have any British beta readers, so I'm doing the best I can. Thank you!

**SIMON**

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the brightest person I know. I’m not even close, to absolutely no one’s surprise.

But this?

This might be a new level of dumbassery, even for me.

Like, I’ve done dumb stuff before. I drank tea with a fork. I ate dinner at 9:24 PM that consisted of 14 dinosaur chicken nuggets and nothing else.

And I know that kids in the care homes are generally not the biggest fans of mine, but still.

I should’ve known it was going to be more than just a water balloon fight.

Okay, it started out as just a water balloon fight. It was fine. Everything was totally normal, up until some random kid decided that the best place to store their water balloons was the freezer. Which is, again, fine, if you just so happen to be trying to create rock-solid ice projectiles.

Let me tell you, I was not anticipating taking a glorified stone to the face, David-and-Goliath style.

You know what else I wasn’t anticipating?

Taking two glorified stones to the face, David-and-Goliath style. 

The first one was a surprise. I saw the balloon coming toward me, but the ice was a surprise that I did not appreciate. The second one, I had no excuse. I turned around and I swear I saw the balloon moving toward my face in slow motion, gliding through the air, as even the giggles of the younger kids faded out from around me.

I’m now realizing that might have had something to do with the concussion. 

Because as the laughter faded out, so did most everything else. I was only acutely aware of the feeling of damp grass under me as the world around me blurred and went black.

The last thing I heard before I lost consciousness was my name.

**PENELOPE**

Listen, I know Simon asked me not to contact him over the summer, but I just had to check in on him. I had this feeling that I just needed to.

And now I’m glad I did.

He did specifically ask me not to do the possession thing, but it’s not really possession, and I felt somehow that Simon was going to need saving. So I risked his getting mad at me for the chance to save him from whatever it was that he needed saving from.

If you know Simon Snow for any amount of time, you realize that he has a tendency to attract trouble. I wondered what it was going to be this time. Goblins? The Humdrum?

No, of course the greatest danger to him would be a water balloon that some dumbass froze.

When he got hit the first time, I figured I was overreacting. I was just starting to disconnect my call, so to speak, when I witness Simon get pummeled by a second ice balloon, effectively knocking him to the ground.

Oh. That’s not good.

I kept waiting for him to get up. Ten seconds later, he was still on the ground.

Oh. That’s  _ really _ not good.

“Simon!” I shouted, before I could stop myself.

Of course I was right; I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m usually right. But as of right now, my rightness means that Simon Snow needs saving, and I’m the only person who knows, so it has to be me.

Typical.

I try to think back and remember if he’s told me where he was going for the summer. 

He must have, I probably wrote it down somewhere. I start digging through a stack of papers on my desk. 

_ Found it! _

He’s in a town I’ve never heard of in a cheap home that probably doesn’t feed him enough, knowing where he’s been in years past. I think, not for the first time, that I wish he could stay here, with me. If nothing else, I’d know he’d be eating enough.

Now I just need to get to Simon, and I can only think of one way to do so.

Last year, some kid was planning to ask Agatha to one of the dances, and I…

...deterred him. From asking her. That’s what I did. Needless to say, Agatha owes me a favor.

I called her (she hates when I do that, but it was necessary) and told her that I needed a ride somewhere. She fought it, but when I mentioned that favor, she (reluctantly) gave in.

I gave her directions to the home (which I’d looked up), and she didn’t ask when I carried Simon, dazed and half-conscious, into her backseat. She probably didn’t want to know.

**AGATHA**

I don’t even want to know. I’ve known Simon long enough to not question when things like this happen, and if I do this for Penny, she might leave me alone, so this is my best option.

And, listen, I love Penelope Bunce as much as the next person, but you can only take so much of an overbearing person before you start losing it.

I just hope she’ll leave me alone after this is all over.

**PENELOPE**

I’m beginning to realize that I didn’t think this through. I can’t take him back to my house; while my parents love Simon, they are very adamant on the fact that he absolutely cannot stay with us during the summer, when everyone’s home and there’s no spare space for him.

I can’t take him to a hospital, with Normals. I’m worried he might go off in this state. He doesn’t even have control over his consciousness, let alone his magic.

I’m running out of options. I don’t dare ask Agatha to take him. They’re not doing too well, to my knowledge, and I don’t want her to have to deal with that. 

I could take him to the Mage, or back to Watford, but I can’t imagine what would happen if the Mage found out that he was hurt by a frozen water balloon of all things. The poor kid already has it rough.

There’s only one option I can think of.

He’s never going to forgive me for this.

**SIMON**

This might be one of the worst things to ever happen to me.

Okay, that’s an overstatement, but this isn’t fun.

I can’t even open my eyes, I’m barely, barely awake, and I can feel gentle shaking, so I think I’m in a car. I’m not sure whose car, but I can hear Penny’s voice, which should probably worry me more than it does. 

She sounds worried, but not afraid, so I don’t think we’ve been kidnapped again. I think I’m safe. So maybe I can let the hum of the engine lull me back under.

**PENELOPE**

I hate the fact that I have to do this, but it’s my only option. 

I texted Baz on the way to his house to let him know we were coming. He didn’t respond.

But as soon as we pulled up outside of his (ridiculous, Dracula-esque) house (mansion), he came outside to meet us. He looked calm, which doesn’t surprise me. I didn’t expect him to be particularly bothered by the fact that Simon was injured. 

I have Simon by one arm and Agatha has him by the other. Baz takes Agatha’s place, and Agatha dips.  _ That’s fair _ .

Baz and I wordlessly carry Simon upstairs. Baz wants to put him in the guest room, but there’s a wraith in there, and I’m not trying to kill Simon.

Baz sighs and guides me and Simon into a room I presume is his (how many gargoyles does one person possibly need on one bed?). We gently lay Simon on the bed, and Baz walks to his couch and sits. I sit next to Simon on Baz’s bed, aware that I should probably be concerned about angering Baz. But right now, I’m more worried about Simon.

I just hope he’s gonna be okay.

**BAZ**

I can honestly say that I have imagined getting Simon Snow into my bed on countless occasions, in countless ways. I have had dreams, daydreams, fantasies about getting Simon Snow into my bed, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

That’s a lie. I’m very ashamed to admit it. 

All the same, I have spent a lot of time imagining how I would get Simon Snow into my bed.

I can safely say that this was not one of the scenarios I ever imagined.

I’ve been Snow’s roommate for years. I know that he’s...difficult. And I’ve had to help him before. 

I got Bunce’s text.  _ So sorry about this, but Agatha and I are bringing Simon to your house, he’s hurt, I’ll explain when I get there thanks so much _ .

But I can say with 100% honesty that seeing Bunce and Wellbelove carry Snow, barely standing, across my lawn scared me more than I let on.

And now, I’m sitting on the couch in my room, and Bunce and Snow (Simon Snow, great snakes) are on my bed.

I clear my throat. “So, what happened to him?” 

Penny snaps her head up. I figure she was probably focused on Simon. (I would be, too, if he wasn’t supposed to be my enemy.)

“My best guess,” Penny starts, “is a frozen water balloon. Some kid in the care home he’s at for the summer threw two at his head and he went down.”

There is so much to unpack in that statement.

_ Frozen water balloon? _

_ Her best guess? _

_ Care home? _

I want to pretend I don’t care, that I knew he was in a care home probably by force of the Mage, and that the thought doesn’t bother me. I’ve just decided that I’m going to ask about the balloon, but I’m already asking, “He’s in a care home?”

Penny blinks. “Yeah. He stays in a different one every summer. To stay closer to the language.” I’m sure she tacks that last part because she thought I was going to ask. (She’s right. I was going to ask.)

I try to imagine Snow in a care home. With Normals. Does he practice magic? Does he get hurt like this? I’m starting to get upset, but I’ll be damned if I show it. I think about Snow going off in one of the homes. Merlin, he’s in so much danger. I always thought he stayed with the Mage, or with Bunce or Wellbelove. It never occured to me that he could be spending his summers...

I must look surprised, because Penny asks, “Did you not know about it? I figured he would’ve talked about it.” 

I focus back on Penny. “We don’t really hold much pleasant conversation.” 

Simon stirs. We both immediately abandon the conversation to focus on Snow.

He groans.

I sigh.  _ He’s okay _ . 

**SIMON**

I don’t know where I am.

I vaguely remember walking into a house bigger than anyone needs, being dragged upstairs, and falling onto a bed that is decidedly not mine.

I think Penny’s here, and I was conscious enough to see Agatha, but I’ll be surprised if she’s still here. She broke up with me at the end of term, but that’s not my biggest issue right now.

I don’t know whose house this is.

I stir to let Penny know I’m awake, and I hear a relieved sigh. I assume it’s from Penny. I begin to slowly, painfully, open my eyes and sit up. This is a much larger bed than anyone could fill. 

My eyes focus enough in the (surprisingly dim) lights to see Penny. She smiles. I decide to try to figure out where I am. I glance around the room. There isn’t a thing out of place, it’s vaguely Victorian, and it’s neater than any room I’ve ever been in. It’s immaculate, which is a word I only know because of-

“Baz!” I lock eyes with my sworn enemy and it occurs to me that I’m probably in his house, in his room, sitting on his bed. 

He smirks at me.

_ Wait, smirks? _ I’d expected him to sneer. 

This is weird.

“Snow.” He sounds indifferent.

Should I be afraid right now? I am. I can feel my magic sitting just below the surface, rising and rising like a water droplet barely being held together by surface tension.

I glance at Penny. I shoot her a look that I hope says  _ start explaining right now or I might go off. _

She seems to get the message. 

“Simon, you were knocked out at the care home I didn’t know where else to bring you.”

I blink. I ask, “Why didn’t you just leave me there?” Followed by, “You did the possession thing, didn’t you?”

She scrambles for a moment, tripping over her words before she manages, “It’s not possession!”

“Might as well be,” I mumble, hoping Baz doesn’t ask.

“You should be grateful,” she insists. “You got hurt, Simon. You probably have a concussion.”

I pretend not to see Baz tense up at that. 

**BAZ**

Simon bloody Snow has a concussion.

Simon Snow, who is currently in my bed, has a concussion. 

This might be the most bizarre thing to ever happen to me.

I’ve been staring at him, because I don’t know how to hide it, and because he’s not in his right mind enough to notice. (Not that he would notice either way. He’s painfully oblivious.)

Bunce, on the other hand, has sent more than a few warning glances my way.

My parents still don’t know that Simon Snow is  _ in our house _ . 

But I can’t just send him away. Not in this state.

“Snow, you can stay here. If you need.” Why did I add that last bit? I’m soft for Simon Snow.

Bunce whips her head around to me. “He is  _ not _ staying in that  _ bloody  _ guest room.”

I almost laugh at that. And then I almost wish I had what she has. “Relax, Bunce. I’ll stay in the  _ bloody _ guest room.”

Snow frowns. “Baz, I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”

I lean back on the couch in a manner which I desperately hope comes off as challenging. “If you can get up and walk to the guest room without any help, you can stay in there.”

Snow stares at me angrily, but makes no effort to move. I smirk again. (That’s really going to hurt my branding. I need to stop.) “That’s what I thought. Bunce, feel free to take the couch or something.” I turn to leave. “See you in the morning.”

I walk to the guest room and sit down on the bed with no idea how I’m going to make it out of this alive.

**PENELOPE**

Baz is being...surprisingly civil.

Though, from what I’m seeing, it may be a bit more than civility.

I swear to Merlin that Baz was...was…

Was  _ ogling _ Simon from across the room. Only, that doesn’t make sense. They’re sworn enemies, aren’t they? Wouldn’t be surprised if they’d actually sworn. 

So why was Baz…?

“I’ll be right back, Simon.” I walk out of the room and try to navigate my way to the guest room Baz brought me to earlier without waiting for Simon’s response.”

I get to the door. Should I knock? I knock.

Baz opens the door wordlessly, but looks at me expectantly.

“I need to talk to you.”

Baz opens the door wider and steps out of the way so I can enter.

I walk in with purpose. As soon as Baz shuts the door behind me, I get the point.

“Basil, are you gay?”

**BAZ**

That is certainly not what I was expecting.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I should’ve known she was going to just come right out and ask, after how I was acting this afternoon. I don’t blame her; I would be surprised, too.

But I’ll be damned if I ever say no when someone asks me if I’m in love with Simon Snow.

Bunce is looking at me pointedly, waiting for me to answer.

“I am, why?”

She looks taken aback. I haven’t got a clue why; she  _ did  _ ask, after all.

“Are you-I mean...Simon-”

“I am not Simon, Bunce; you’ll have to forgive me.” 

She looks frustrated, like she’s about to scream.

“You know what I’m trying to ask, Basil.”

“I do.” I decide to take mercy on her. “And the answer is yes.”

We stand in silence for what feels like hours. 

“Then why in  _ Merlin’s name _ are you so terrible to him?”

I don’t know how to answer that. Because being his enemy is better than being nothing to him? Because he would panic if I wasn’t so terrible? Because I’ve set a precedent that I can’t break now?

I settle on honesty. “Because he expects it from me.”

She’s looking at me with a look I can’t quite read. I don’t say anything, worried that I just said the wrong thing. Eventually, Bunce speaks. 

“You have to tell him.”

Somehow, I knew she was going to say that. 

But still. “Bunce, I can’t.”

And it’s true. I won’t deny that I’m in love with Simon. Frankly, I’ve been holding on to it for so long that I don’t care who knows anymore.

But I  _ can’t _ tell Simon. I can’t make myself.

I can’t let myself.

She shakes her head, disappointed, and leaves without another word.

**PENELOPE**

I should’ve known. How did I not see it before?

Baz is a coward. (That’s not what I should’ve known. I already knew that; it’s just a side note.) 

I didn’t get as clear an answer as I would’ve liked, but that’s my fault. I was so bloody shocked that I couldn’t even get my question out. All I got is a “yes.”

Yes to what?

Does Baz...like Simon? Does he have a crush on Simon?

Merlin, is Baz in love with Simon?

Should I...tell Simon? Should I wait for Baz to say something? This seems like Baz’s thing to tell. But he just said that he can’t…

Merlin and Morgana, this is messy.

When I get back to Simon’s (Baz’s) room, Simon’s already passed out. I smile fondly and set up on Baz’s couch. 

I really hope Baz says something soon.

**BAZ**

I have to say something. Soon.

If I don’t, Bunce will. I know she will. I can’t have that. If Simon’s going to find out, he needs to find out from me. He deserves that.

Merlin, I really don’t want to do this.

I have to do this.

I don’t know if I can do this.

I lay back onto the guest bed and exhale dramatically. I’ve earned the right to be a little dramatic. 

I’m about to tell Simon Snow that I’m in love with him. After years upon years of building up this reputation, doing exactly what he expects me to do, and absolutely  _ not telling Simon Snow that I’m in love with him _ , I’m about to tell Simon Snow that I’m in love with him.

Merlin. Merlin and Morgana. I really,  _ really _ don’t want to do this.

I’ll worry about it in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make for a happy writer! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr: @ineffable-winchester
> 
> Check out my other Carry On works in the series at the top (shameless self promo)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m doing Basil a favor. He may not be able to see it now, but scaring him into confessing to Simon is most likely the push that he needed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the much-anticipated second chapter! I really loved writing this story, and I hope y'all enjoy reading it, too!

**PENELOPE** ****

I’m doing Basil a favor. He may not be able to see it now, but scaring him into confessing to Simon is most likely the push that he needed. 

Because, here’s the thing. I know Simon. I’ve known Simon for years. And actually _known_ him, unlike Baz, who just sneered at him from across their bedroom or whatever. I know things about Simon he doesn’t even know about himself. 

Simon may be the most repressed person I’ve ever met.

It doesn’t really surprise me. The Mage is brutal to him, even if it’s out of whatever weird love he has for Simon. He claims to be an ally, but we all know what he is. He’s a drill sergeant, more than anything else. 

Simon has never been good with communication. And feelings. I’m sure Baz knows that. And I’m sure Baz will take that into consideration when he confesses to Simon. 

And I know it’s mean, but it’s for their own good. Both of them. Baz needs to get this off his chest. He’s been holding onto this for far, far too long, if I had to make a guess. 

And Simon? Simon may be the most _aggressively bisexual_ repressed person I’ve ever met.

He probably doesn’t know it. Comes with the repression.

But Baz’s confession might act as an awakening for him. It’ll be complicated at first, I know that. Simon’s first reaction will probably be to laugh in Baz’s face. Then mock him endlessly. But I can only hope that Simon actually takes a step back and _thinks_ for once in his hopeless life.

Okay, that was mean. But I’m frustrated. With the both of them.

I’ve gone through years of hearing Simon talk about Baz. He talks about Baz more than he talks about anyone else, including Agatha, which was my first clue. Sure, everything Simon said was along the lines of “he’s plotting” or “he’s evil” or “he’s a prick,” but underneath it all, if you really knew how to read between the lines, you could hear, “he’s perfect.”

I look over at Simon. He’s still peacefully passed out, dead to the world. I spell the lights off, and laying on Baz’s couch in the darkness of Baz’s bedroom, I come to a conclusion.

If I have to play matchmaker to get them together, then so be it.

**SIMON**

I’m not asleep.

I heard Penny come in, and I know I should be asleep. I’m exhausted, and my head feels like it’s underwater, and I have to fight the need to sleep that’s washing over me, but I’m not asleep.

I’m still not entirely sure what’s going on. And, I know I’m a dumbass, but my brain is working _so slowly._ I’ll have to ask Penny in the morning if she knows any spells to make my brain work normally.

I’m freaking out. I’m concussed, away from where the Mage thinks I am, and laying in _Baz Pitch’s bed_ , and I’m not sure how to feel about all of it. 

I hate Baz. I hate him. He’s evil, and this is probably all part of some elaborate plot of his. He’s probably blackmailing Penny. He’s trying to kill me, just like he has before. He would. He _has_. He’s a prick, and none of this should be happening.

...should it? 

I mean, maybe Baz is just...being nice. Maybe he wants a truce. Maybe he doesn’t want to hurt me until I can safely hurt him back. 

I must be _really_ concussed. 

Baz Pitch is most decidedly trying to kill me.

**BAZ**

Snow probably thinks I’m trying to kill him.

He’s always convinced that everything I do is some kind of elaborate plot I have against him. Literally. Everything I do. I can’t even walk into our room at Watford without him eyeing me suspiciously. I don’t know how I get any coursework done. He’s always bloody _staring_ at me. 

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think _Snow_ was plotting against _me_. 

And honestly, Snow needs to get over himself. He’s not the only person in my life. I have friends. I take classes he’s not in. My world doesn’t _revolve_ around him.

Well.

You get what I mean.

So anyway, Snow probably thinks this is part of a plot to kill him.

Honestly, what I’m planning on telling him might be worse than just flat out killing him. He’d probably prefer that I shoot him in the head, or hit him with **Avada Kedavra**. (Which allegedly sometimes works, surprisingly; those stupid novels did more for the world of mages than you’d think.) 

This is torture. This is what hell is like. I’m in the guest room of my own house, while Simon Snow is asleep in my bed and I can’t be there with him.

My life is some sick cosmic joke.

I haven’t got a clue how I’m going to tell him. I don’t even think Penny knows what she’s making me do. All I told her was “yes.” It’s her fault, her and her cryptic questions. 

Maybe I don’t have to do this. 

No, no, I have to do this. 

All this thinking isn’t doing me any good. I really need to go to sleep. Or at least pretend to. 

Big day tomorrow. 

**SIMON**

I’m still awake, and I’ve come to a decision. 

I’m going to ask Baz for a truce. Just until my head is better. 

I don’t think it’s such a far-fetched thing to ask, and I think he might actually agree to it. 

Now, I should probably wait until tomorrow morning, but I’m not in my right mind, so I can’t wait. Am I just using that as an excuse? Maybe. Still, I’m going to find the guest room. 

I wander around in the dark hallway for a while. There are so many rooms here, how much family does Baz have? I’m scared to try any doors. I have half a mind to go back and ask Penny to help me find the room, but I don’t want her to know what I’m up to. She’d probably yell at me for being stupid. 

I’m standing in front of a door that looks exactly like every other door in this bloody corridor. I have no idea if this is the right door, but right now I’m counting on some plot convenience to save me. 

I knock, unsure if I’m supposed to. But Baz opens the door. He doesn’t look like he’s been asleep. I almost wonder what’s been keeping him up. 

He looks surprised to see me. “Snow,” he says, “you found the guest room. Are you here to claim it?” 

I pause. He did say that, didn’t he?

But that’s not why I stumbled through the hallway to him. 

“No, I want to talk to you about something.”

**BAZ**

I try to mask the…surprise? fear? anticipation? that crosses my face. Simon doesn’t react, but he’s concussed. And a dumbass. 

What could Snow possibly want to talk to me about in the middle of the damn night? 

I want to grab his wrist and lead him into the room. I want to sit him down and listen to his woes, but I just open the door and motion for him to come in. 

Simon sits on the bed without me prompting him. He stares into space like he’s trying to remember something. I can practically see the gears turning. I wait for him. I’ll always wait for him.

A full minute passes, and I’m still waiting for him to figure out what he’s going to say. 

I’ve been waiting for Simon Snow for years. I’m willing to wait a lifetime for Simon Snow. I’d do anything for him; I want him to be my happy ending.

But this is just bloody ridiculous. 

I grab my wand from the side table where I put it and point it at Snow. He’s just barely starting to look up when I hit him with **Use Your Head**. He blinks rapidly for a few seconds before focusing again and locking eyes with me.

“Thanks,” he says, but he sounds suspicious. 

I don’t say anything. He clears his throat.

“Why are you here, Snow?” I ask slowly, carefully.

“I want a truce,” he says, staring at the bedsheets. His voice is so soft that I almost miss it. 

Can he really be asking this right now? “A truce?” I ask, disbelief lacing in my voice.

He nods, still staring at the sheets. He’s visibly tense; he won’t meet my eyes. He probably expects me to laugh in his face.

I could tell him right now. I could. He’s right there. Even though he won’t look at me, I know he’s waiting for me to speak. To grant him his truce. I could tell him. I could confess right now. It’d be out there, Penny would leave me alone, and it would all be over with. I should tell him. Am I about to tell him?

“Snow, I’m in love with you.”

The words hang in the air. It takes Simon a moment to process what I’ve just said. He slowly looks up at me. He looks...vulnerable. An almost-smile dances across his features. His eyes are wide. Unreadable. I can’t speak. He has to be the next one to say something.

“What?” he asks dumbly.

I groan. Seriously? “Crowley, Snow. Give me more of a reaction than that.”

“What am I supposed to say?” he asks, not angrily like I’d expected. More...timid.

“I don’t know. Try, ‘I hate you,’ or ‘I don’t believe you,’ or ‘you’re a dumbass.” Simon. Give me something,” I say desperately. “Please.”

I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I’m currently in the process of doing what I promised myself I would never do. Ever. If Simon doesn’t say something soon, I might start crying.

Finally, Merlin, _finally_ , Simon says something. “I don’t hate you,” he starts, uneasily. “I just...don’t know what to think.” 

I put my elbows on my knees and drop my head into my hands. “You can go,” I say, before realizing how rude that sounds and sitting up to talk my way out of what I just said. “I mean, you can stay, obviously, but you can go back to my room, or I can go and you can stay here, or something, or-

I feel Simon’s lips on mine before I can process what’s happening.

**SIMON**

I don’t know what I’m doing.

I pull back as quickly as I’d started. 

Why did I just do that? I wasn’t thinking. Crowley, Baz is going to skin me alive.

...I may need to rethink that one.

I’m staring at Baz and Baz is staring right back at me. Both of us are wide-eyed in disbelief. It’s dark in his room, but I can see the blush creeping up his neck and onto his face. (He must have fed recently.)

Neither of us says anything. 

I have to say something. 

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what-”

Baz presses his lips to mine, effectively cutting me off. 

What can I do but kiss him back?

I don’t stop to think about what I’m doing, but a voice in the back of my head tells me that this is what I wanted all along. All the years of fighting and hating…

This is what I want.

I feel Baz’s (unbelievably cold) hand on the back of my neck. Actually, all of Baz is unbelievably cold, so I put my hands on his chest. It feels right. 

Baz is kissing me desperately. I learn in this moment that Baz, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, perfectionist and top of our class at Watford, is an extremely clumsy kisser.

But I don’t care because I can feel his body under my hands, he’s real and he’s here and he’s _Baz_ , and I don’t ever want this to end.

I’m so close that I can smell him. Not his posh cedar and bergamot scented soaps, but _him_. Something uniquely Baz. 

He’s cool to the touch, and I almost feel like I’m melting him. 

He doesn’t seem to mind.

**BAZ**

I don’t stop to think about whether or not this is a good kiss. I don’t care. I’m aware that it’s messy, and imperfect, and frantic, but I don’t care. This is all I’ve ever wanted. And Simon’s not pushing me away. 

Simon’s hands are on my chest and I wonder if he can feel my heartbeat. I’m not even entirely sure I have one, but if I do, Simon must be feeling it right now.

His hands leave my chest and drift to my waist, and he’s pulling me closer to him. I go willingly, because I always want to be closer to Simon Snow. 

One of us is going to have to break away soon to breathe. I refuse to let it be me. I just want Simon here, breathing the same air as me, for as long as I can have him.

Because part of me is afraid I’ll never get this again. 

I push that thought away and kiss him as thoroughly as I can.

Eventually, he does break away, short of breath, flushed, and grinning like a maniac. His lips are red and swollen, and I feel an odd sense of pride in that. 

Neither of us speaks. Neither of us needs to. He hasn’t pulled back very far, so I rest my forehead against his. He closes his eyes and smiles. 

We sit like that for a few minutes until he says, “I should...probably go back. My head, I need to rest…” 

He doesn’t sound like he wants to go, and he hasn’t made any move to leave.

I take that as my cue. “You could stay here, if you wanted.” I don’t know how he’s going to respond. 

He leans back a little to look me in the eye and smile warmly at me. “I’d like that.”

We both lay back in the bed, and in a moment of boldness, I turn toward him and wrap my arm around his waist. He doesn’t try to move me. In fact, he tucks his arm around my shoulders. I snuggle into him. I’ll never say that out loud.

We don’t say anything else. I listen for a while to the gentle cadence of his breathing.

**SIMON**

I have to ask.

“Does this mean I get my truce?” 

Baz laughs. It’s a beautiful, happy sound and I’m not sure I’ve ever heard it before.

I want to hear more of it. 

“I think we can agree to a truce, Snow.”

I smirk. “You called me Simon before.”

He pauses a moment. “Did I?”

We lay in the darkness of the Grimm-Pitch guest room and I’m softly lulled to sleep. I know Baz is watching me, but I don’t mind. I’d be watching him, if I could, but the angle doesn’t really work out.

I can tell when he’s fallen asleep. His breathing changes. He seems calmer, gentler.

I smile to myself. He’s beautiful. And he’s mine. Or at least something close to it.

**PENELOPE**

Simon isn’t in bed when I wake up the next morning. I wonder if he and Baz are already awake and moving about the house.

I wander to the guest room to check on Baz. The door is cracked ever so slightly. I push it open.

In the guest room, Simon and Baz are curled up together in bed, legs tangled, dead to the world. They look happy. Content.

I’m definitely going to hold this over both of their heads. I take a picture. For insurance.

Coercion is a good way to play matchmaker.

In the end, I’m happy. I’m happy that Simon finally realized that he deserves to be happy, and to be happy with Baz.

I’m happy that Baz finally decided to tell him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually my first Carry On fic! Let me know what you think, and check out my account for Supernatural and Good Omens content!
> 
> This was way, way longer than I expected. Oof.
> 
> Comments and kudos make for a happy writer!
> 
> Find me on tumblr: @ineffable-grimm-pitch
> 
> Check out my other Carry On works in the series below (shameless self promo)


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